


Storytelling

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Character of Color, Gen, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-25
Updated: 2009-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hazel likes to tell Bible stories. But things aren't quite the same when you're travelling with Sanzo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytelling

Hazel was beginning to wonder if the marketplace stop had really been necessary.

One priest in town was an anomaly; two, a source of entertainment. There had been smiles, and offers of food, and-- unusual, but not unexpected-- half a dozen children, watching their every move. Sanzo had, of course, refused to do anything with them, which was why Hazel found himself surrounded by little ones begging "Mr. Priest" for a story. He'd settled down in by the fountain-- Gat's watchful eye sweeping the marketplace for any trouble-- and started the story of Moses in the bulrushes. It was always a popular story with children, especially in these lands, where ophans were a norm rather than an exception.

"Would people really put a baby in a basket?" one of the children asked.

"Why not?" Sanzo asked. "Better than just tossing it in."

Hazel gave Sanzo a look that wasn't quite a glare. "Well," Hazel said, "I suppose you could say that."

Sanzo lit another cigarette and sat back with something like satisfaction. He was blessedly quiet through the rest of the story, until Hazel got to the emotional climax, with the Hebrews passing triumphantly through the parted Red Sea toward their new home.

"So what happened to the woman?" Sanzo asked.

"Miriam, Moses' sister?" Hazel replied. "Well, she--"

"No," Sanzo said. "The one who took the kid out of the water. The Pharoah's daughter. What happened to her?"

Telling stories with Sanzo around was like this; there was a narrative, and it was straight, and true and simple, and Hazel would be happily building to the dramatic, satisfying, and necessary conclusion when Sanzo would suddenly interrupt with something completely tangential to the subject at hand.

"She went to Israel," Hazel said. "Down to th' promised land with the Hebrews."

"Hn," Sanzo said, which could mean anything, but generally meant he'd be quiet for a moment. He stubbed his cigarette on the ground and ground out the embers with his boot. "So they all lived happily ever after?"

"Well," Hazel said, "I'm not sure I'd put things like _that._ But yes...I think she was content to be with Moses and his family."

"Not everyone's so generous," Sanzo noted.

"What do you mean, Sanzo-han?" Hazel granted Sanzo his most guileless smile. "The lady would surely have known the Hebrews were good people, generous and kind and happy to be free."

"Ah," Sanzo said, lighting another stinking cigarette to replace the one he'd just stubbed out. "But she was Egyptian, wasn't she?"

"Well, yes--"

"Not everyone can separate the parts from the whole," Sanzo said, putting the cigarette to his mouth and taking a deep drag. "I'm sure some wouldn't have rested until all the Egyptians were dead." Smoke obscured the set of his mouth.

"Yes," Hazel said, taking his remark for the insult it was. "Well, the Lord forgives all, but we humans are ... flawed, I suppose."

"You can say that again," Sanzo said, and walked away, his boots making soft impacts in the dirt.

"What about you, Mister Priest?" one of the children asked. He couldn't have been more than ten, and his eyes were wide as the moon, but there was still some guile there; he'd clearly sensed tension. "Would you have let her in?"

"Of course," Hazel said, pushing his disquiet down. "My own master took me into his home as an orphan, and there's no kinder or better soul than one who cares for another's kin."

"Huh," the boy said, hugging his knees to his chest. He seemed as dubious as Sanzo had been. Was he an orphan? Had he been cared for by--

No. The possibility was absurd. Of course not.

Hazel got up. "And I'm sure you all enjoyed that, but Master Sanzo and I must be movin' on now."

"Thanks for the story, Mister Priest," one of the girls said.

Hazel removed his hat with a flourish. "'Twas my pleasure." But his chest felt hollow. He rose and began to walk away from the small crowd who'd gathered around him.

Gat watched him, his face as composed as a statue. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," he said, putting his hat back on. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Gat said nothing, which felt like another insult.

"We'd best be going," Hazel said finally. "We've done enough shopping for today."

Gat nodded, and went to find Sanzo.


End file.
